


bananafrappe's Reader Collection

by thebananahasspoken



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Blood, Cougar - Freeform, Death, Dirty Talk, Dominance, F/M, First Time, Longing, Masturbation, Multi, Oral, Oral Fixation, Threesome, Unrequited Love, crop
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-12-01 22:45:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11496330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebananahasspoken/pseuds/thebananahasspoken
Summary: My reader pieces from Tumblr, SFW and NSFW both <3





	1. Talk Dirty to Me

**Author's Note:**

> Fell and Raz are more than willing to take you up on that.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Underfell, Swapfell*
> 
> *NSFW*

* * *

Anonymous asked: I've been listening to a lot of audios lately and my dirty talk kink is through the roof... If you've got time, do you think we could see some dirty talk from UF or SF Sans?

 

* * *

Red takes a deep draw of his cigar, one arm thrown over the back of his chair and the other holding his cell phone. His gaze lingers on the yearning post, reading it over several times, before he lazily raises his glowing sockets up to meet your eyes, tendrils of smoke billowing between his fangs and through his nasal cavity.

His grin is wide, and his expression knowing.

“so. ya got a thing for dirty talk, do ya? an’ ya come ta me, hopin’ i’ll fulfill your wildest fantasies.”

He chuckles, rough and antagonistic, and pulls his cigar from between his teeth; at the same moment, he repositions himself in his easy chair, leaning back and spreading his legs a bit.

Even from across the room, you can tell he’s interested. The tented front of his shorts testifies to that.

“that kinda shit don’t come free, sugartits. you want me ta put in tha effort ta getcha off? ya gotta pay tha piper first. ain’t that right… raz?”

A sinister chuckle comes from behind you, and a look over your shoulder reveals the shorter, but no less menacing, form of Raz, arms crossed over his armored chest and one shoulder propped against the wall. He looks down on you with a degree of superior scorn, leering and tapping one end of his riding crop against his shoulder plate. 

“For once we are in agreement, Red. Humans take so many things for granted… filthy, presumptuous little beasts.”

He pushes himself away from the wall, and walks to circle you; you can tell you are being inspected, his deep maroon gaze drawing over you like claws. He pauses after his first round, and raises his crop to your throat, pushing up on the underside of your chin.

He brings your eyes up to meet his gaze, and smirks at you.

“I believe we possess the cure for such temperament. Why don’t you show us how well you can please us, before we bother trying to do the same for you? You can’t expect something for nothing.”

You mean to ask what you can do to assure them of your intent to repay them in kind, but the pair of skeleton monsters seem uninterested in hearing you speak: Raz presses up on your chin as soon as you opened your mouth, glowering and silencing you with a low, threatening growl, and across the room, Red is unbuckling his belt, grinning so wide that you’re surprised his face hadn’t split in half.

“ah ah… i don’t think ya deserve ta talk. got better uses for your mouth, sweetheart,” Red croons antagonistically, drawing the zipper on his shorts down in clear allusion, and Raz removes his crop from your chin only to point at the other skeleton monster indicatively.

“Obey, quickly and well, and we will consider your request, trash.”

There obviously isn’t an option here, your blood thrumming in your veins in your nervous excitement, so you dismount your chair, and make to approach Red, who has pulled his intimidating erection from his pants and is stroking his hand along its length.

You don’t expect the quick flash of pain across the backs of your thighs, the crop quick and punitive, or the intimidating snarl that Red lets out.

“Who do you think you are, human scum? Such disrespect,” Raz barks, and reaches out to curl a hand into your hair painfully; he pulls downwards, bowing your back and bending your knees, and Red scowls at you in displeasure, baring his fangs threateningly.

“you really don’t know shit about nothin’, do ya? stupid fuckin’ slut. get down on your knees an’ _**crawl**_ ,” he demands, and again, with Raz’s hand curled into your hair and both their hard gazes locked on you, you don’t have much of a choice, dropping to your hands and knees and crawling across the floor to Red’s feet.

At the very least, they look pleased, Raz softening his grip on your hair and Red humming under his breath as he looks down at you, his grin once again ravenous and inviting as he palms his thick, erect cock and takes another deep inhalation of his cigar.

“tha’s better, human. heh… i like seein’ ya at my feet, all eager an’ ready for me. ‘s where ya belong, ain’t it? on yer knees, beggin’ ta suck my cock,” he prompts, blowing a stream of smoke into your face, and you nod, flushing and focused on the twitching, manifested magic inches from your face.

Both of the monsters grin at that, and Raz pushes you forward by his grip in your hair, pressing your mouth to the underside of the pierced dick before you.

“I know you are eager, whore… so why don’t you get to work? The sooner you do the only thing you’re good for, the sooner you can get what you truly desire.”

There were certainly worse things than going down on a skeleton monster so you could indulge one of your more prevalent kinks, especially one that you’d been lusting after for longer than you cared to admit, so you obey with only slight hesitation, parting your lips to slick your tongue up the length of Red’s cock and slip the pierced head into your mouth.

He groans at your motions, thrusting his hips up into the warmth of your mouth and leaning his head back in his chair; Raz attempts to guide you in your motions, using his hold on your hair to push you further onto the thick, dripping erection, but Red growls warningly, slapping at his hand.

“back off my koolaid, bro, i can handle ‘er,” he snaps, wrapping his own hand in your hair to pull you further down on his length, then turns back to watching you take him into your mouth, his teeth parting to allow his sinuous, tapering tongue to slip past his fangs.

He pants almost in time with the half forced, half eager bobs of your head, grunting and pulling your hair encouragingly at odd intervals.

“see? that ain’t so hard, is it? well… in a matter of speakin’, heh. _shit_ , ya feel good. humans are so fuckin’ soft an’ wet… more, babydoll, more,” he groans lasciviously, pushing down on your head to force you to take more of him (you choke a little, his length pressing at the back of your throat), and behind you Raz halts in his watchful pacing, looking on as you wriggle and shift on your knees.

“Look how she squirms, Red. I can smell her desire from here. Are you aroused, you worthless slut?” he prompts, smirking and using the tip of his crop to pull the edge of your skirt up, allowing cool air to wash between your legs, and you whine in response, both unable and unwilling to deny his claim.

Both Red and Raz chuckle, Red’s free hand reaching out to palm one of your breasts and Raz’s crop tracing its way down to stroke its way over your arched, raised posterior, teasing you through your panties.

“betcha are, sweetcheeks… betcha wanna sit on this cock more than you wanna suck it. you want that? you wanna fuck yourself on me?” Red teases, raising a bony brow and squeezing your sensitive breast invitingly, then, when you nod and whimper in excitement, pushing back against the hard length Raz was rubbing against your soaked folds, he leers cruelly, pushing you so far onto his cock that he slips into your throat, holding you there while you choke and struggle. 

He pulls back to let you breathe after a moment, meeting your teary eyes with hard, amused dominance.

“too fuckin’ bad. you got a job ta do. i know you’re a thirsty, cockhungry little whore, but your wet little pussy can wait ‘til ya get me off. then maybe… _maybe_ i’ll think ‘bout helpin’ ya out.”

Raz hums in agreement, snapping the crop against your covered entrance punishingly and grinning when you jolt and cry out as best you can with your mouth full.

“Once you are finished with me, of course.”


	2. Death's Knell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans has his duty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> But he owes his heart, too.
> 
> *Reapertale*
> 
> *SFW*

* * *

Anonymous asked: I had a dream and now it won't leave me alone, so i had to tell someone. I encounter reaper!Sans. Except, I didn't die. Over the years, I keep crossing paths with him, but only because each meeting I'm either on the verge of death and each time I say "Not yet." Finally, the last time we meet, I offer up my hand for a handshake. I pull a fast one and just as we touched and I kissed him. I was flirting with death. -badum tsh!- I'll never know how he reacted cause I woke up. Hope he wasn't mad

* * *

The first time you saw the hooded figure that brought your death on darkened wing, you were only a child.

Death hovered over your sickbed, your fever reaching incredible heights and your sight fuzzy. You were not afraid, as he bent over you, skeletal hand hovering over your sweat beaded forehead and bony face kind. You knew who he was without question, without saying, but still you drew away from his touch.  
  
“Not yet. Please… not yet.”

His expression was one of resignation, patient indulgence; he had heard this plea before, many more times than there were stars in the sky. But he was temperate, as he drew back to the shadow. Waiting. Watching.

“one more day, child. make your peace, before your rest.”

But you didn’t die. During the night, your fever passed, and you regained strength. Death did not return for you the next day, or the day after, but kept his watchful distance, knowing, knowing, that your day would come. He was owed, and one day, you would pay the ultimate price.

The next time he came to you, you were a teenager. High on life, and full of adventure. You had jumped from a high tree and into a lake, unaware of the rapids that ran below the surface. You were swept away, from your friends and family, and as you faded beneath the water, he emerged from the depths, floating around you, an ethereal, dark angel.

He reached for you again, and again you pulled away, pleading for your chance.

*Not yet… please, not yet.*

He was giving, he was kind. He pushed the water, leading you to the surface and the shore, and faded into the dark again, watching, waiting.

“one more day, child. make your peace, before your rest.”

You had swallowed a great deal of water. You were nearly hypothermic, when you were found and brought to the hospital. There was little hope for your survival, the watchful dark clinging heavy to the corners of your room… but survive you did.

They called it a miracle, when you rallied and pressed through, and in the deepest part of the night, your parents asleep at your side and your slumber pulling heavy at your weakened body, he came again, stepping from the shadows and hovering over your bedside.

“you vex me, child. but live on, until our next.”

You wondered, often, if he was only a dream, coming to you as you faded from the world. If he was a feverish imagining. But the next time he came to you, it was undeniable.

You were prey, this time. A hunter of the night followed your steps down a dark alley, a knife glinting in hand and a hunger of terrible repercussion shining in the light of the moon. You wept, as you ran, cut and bruised and terrified, your pursuer growing nearer and nearer, and before you, through the links of the fence that blocked your path, he stood, pity and sadness on his skeletal face.

He had no desire to wait until you had suffered this fate. He reached out his hand, an escape, a boon, a kindness in your time of need. You clung to the fence, tears dripping down your face. You didn’t want death, from him nor your assaulter. You wanted to live.

“Please… not yet…”

His face gathered shadows, indecision and reluctance in his empty sockets. He met your gaze, and held it inescapably. You were hypnotized, stuck with awareness of the closeness of your doom… but you were not afraid. You knew his benevolence. You knew his candor.

“Please…”

The hunter was almost upon you when he released you from his stare, stepping back into the dark… but not to leave you to your end. A swath of silver struck from behind the beast, cleaving his soul from his body and dropping him to the dirty ground at your feet, and from behind the fallen predator, Death approached, the man’s filthy soul clutched in one hand and his smile fallen into recompense.

He watched you in silence, unsure of the validity and sanctity of what he had done; his scythe dissolved into mist, his free hand reaching out to trace the shape of your mussed hair, your bloody face, a breath away from your flesh… before he turned away, already being swallowed by the night.

“live on, woman. take more care with your time… i cannot continue to spare you forever.”

Fate would have it not be so. Death knocked at your door far too regularly, as your life passed you by. A motorcycle accident. A store robbery. A gas leak. Your life was threatened almost constantly, and each time your end threatened, Death came to your side. Each time, he reached for you, and each time you begged.

“Not yet… please, not yet.”

Each time, he looked into your eyes and judged your soul, lingered within your space, ghosted his touch over your body. Each time, he warned you that this would be the last time he would let you go, that the next time he would have to bring you your end.

The last time came and went, with the same promise. The next was the same, as well as the next. You began to think he was almost fond of you, despite his growing frustration. You wondered if the beat of your heart, when he drew from the dark as your breath shortened, meant that you were fond of him too.

You sought your answer in your thirtieth year, the eighteenth time that Death came to you. You awaited him with tears on your cheeks, your bones splintered and your blood covering the ground. He looked pained, when he spilled, like oil, from the shadow of the ambulance, the rain diluting your blood and wetting your clothes. You smiled shakily, the ragged shaft of metal pierced through your lungs shining in the emergency lights, and he smiled back, though only in sadness, sinking to his knees at your side.

“Guess… guess there isn’t any more time, is there?”

He looked to your face with pity and longing, wishing he could give you the answer he always did.

“no, woman. this is the end. there is no more time.”

Again, he offered his hand. You realized, in that moment, that he had done so from the beginning, rather than taking your soul by force, like he had the man that had tried to harm you.

This time, you accepted his hand. This time, you reached out to touch his face, surprised by the feeling of bone. This time, you leaned close to him, and breathed in the perfume of your coming end, and pressed your lips to his bony mouth.

He allowed both, and cradled you as you faded into the ether, and carried you to his kingdom in the dark. His tears were bleak and silent on his cheekbones, when he harvested your soul, but he did not send your soul on to the next life, your peaceful heaven. He did not give you your deserved rest. He was more than anything he had shown to you in life.

He was Death, trapped by the disease of his own touch. He had never been able to have you, only able to watch you in your times of suffering and pain. He had never been able to help, only capable of sparing you his presence for another year.

He was Death, and he was selfish, he was bitter… and he was in love.

He was Death, keeper of Souls and the Gates, and sent your soul back to the world, for the hundred and twenty-seventh time, urging you to be reborn and call to him once more.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope You enjoyed!


	3. The Law of Continuous Motion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why did you always do this to him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He'd never understood, but never ceased to be entranced.
> 
> *Undertale*
> 
> *NSFW*

* * *

Sans couldn’t wave his last student out the door of his classroom quickly enough, his smile strained and his puns halfhearted in his state.

The day had been too damn long, too damn hard… Unf. Just thinking the vague innuendos made his erection throb against his femur under his desk, persistent and petulant and longing for the reality that had teased him since his first class that morning…

The same way that you had teased him, with that smirk and that short skirt and those long stockings and that stupid, sexy lollipop.

Why did it have to be blue. Why did it have to stain your lips and tongue the color he wished he could coat them himself. Why did you have to saunter over with your assignment, asking for help in that sweet, teasing voice, squeezing against his side and pressing your breasts against his arm and looking at him through your eyelashes, knowing, knowing what you were doing to him.

If it weren’t so close to the end of the semester, and your enrollment in his classes, he’d have had you bent over the edge of your work table months ago, taking his cock like you so clearly desired to. He only had to be patient a little longer…

Only had to do what he had been needing to all day a little longer.

At long last, the last student left, closing the lecture hall door behind them, and he waited no more than half a second, rigid and desperate at his paper littered desk, before teleporting to his private office, his hands shaking as he unbuckled his belt and ripped his slacks down around his knees.

He had intended to take care of his problem at lunch, just the two classes he had had to suffer through in the morning driving him insane (he’d started pushing his luck, squeezing his rigid cock through his pants and teasing himself, excited at the prospect of getting off), but Papyrus had shown up unannounced with lunch, and had stayed the whole hour, leaving Sans unsatisfied and incredibly frustrated.

So when he finally stroked his hand along his erection, in the darkness of his office with his loose tie and hem of his button up shirt held in his teeth and the glow of his magic casting his desperate face into dark shadows, he arched so hard that his office chair creaked, moaning without restraint and squeezing his sockets closed.

He continued his motion, using the drips of magic that had been staining his slacks all day to speed his hand in its lustful climb and descent along his cock; he grunted with each stroke, his hips bucking into his fist and his other hand gripping at the arm rest of his chair.

As he worked himself, panting through his nasal cavity and trembling with need, he imagined it was you, using your filthy, teasing mouth to take care of the mess you had made. You took all of him into your mouth, that sexy little tongue stroked along his length and flicked the head of his dick… He grasped at your hair as he used your motion to his advantage, thrusting into the warmth and wetness that was your willing, cock tease of a mouth.

And when he came, gasping and hunching over himself and nearly crying in relief, you swallowed every drop, your lips and tongue glowing the blue of his magic that you thirsted for so badly.

He sat in his filth for a long moment, staring up at the ceiling and letting his mind wander (what would you do if he started teasing you back?), before he dismissed his cum with a snap of his fingers, pulled his clothes back to rights, and stood on shaky legs, his grin contented and sly.

He would have to be careful, while you were still a student of his… But you’d get yours for today. He’d get you back, and make you as desperate as he had been for the past ten hours, that was for damn certain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, guys, hope you enjoyed!


	4. Cat Got Your Tongue?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The cat's out of the bag.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And Sans is ready to play.
> 
> *Undertale*
> 
> *NSFW*

* * *

Kaleia: Speaking about a older woman. I told Nihilism Pastry what would it be like for Sans with a 40 year old virgin. Poor lady never had sex before. So sexy dominant bones will help her ;p need smut of that! I need it bad!

* * *

Sans is making cougar jokes out the wazoo until he realizes that you've had never been with anyone. He can hardly believe it, you're so sexy and amazing, how could you _never_ have had sex? He imagines that you never really wanted to, and probably still don’t, so he doesn’t make any moves. Keeps your shenanigans above the belt, so he doesn’t make you uncomfortable, even though that little shimmy you do when you're in his lap kissing him drives him insane.

 

Until you ask him to spend the night, blushing like a loon and trying so hard to be seductive (and succeeding, _stars_ , if you kept doing that to your lower lip, or moved your hand any higher up his leg, he was going to embarrass you both in the middle of the damn coffee shop), and not only do you make good on your offer, you buy lingerie, too, sexy little lace things that make you look like a cover model, full and blushing and so perfect… he can’t help but pounce on you.

 

Can’t help but drag those little lacy panties off of you with his teeth, touch you everywhere that you've never has been before. Can’t help but eat you out and nearly cum himself, all over the bedsheets, when you orgasm around his tongue, keening wildly and undulating under him in a perfect, bone melting arch.

 

He licks you everywhere, finding your most sensitive spots and massaging them mercilessly. He makes you cum again, just from licking and pinching your nipples, fascinated by how sensitive and erotic your breasts are. Makes you _beg_ for his cock, before he even rubs against your, before letting you feel the exquisite girth of him against your swollen, dripping folds.

 

He fills you so perfectly, when he gives you what you are pleading for, and it’s everything you had been told it was and more but was so, so afraid would be less, his hands a dream on your waist and tangled in your hair, his tongue twisting with yours as he swallowed your moans… his cock pressing in all the right ways within you, stretching you and stimulating you and emptying magic into your womb when you finish together, exhausted but finally, finally sated and content.

 

For about an hour, that is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, guys! Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
